


Leaflets from the Greenhouse

by KittyWillCutYou



Series: Greenhouse Books [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Greenhouse Books AU, I do what I want, Magik and what not, OC is plussized, OC means well, Oc is black, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POC original character(s), Robyne Saint-Clair, Witchcraft, Witchy OC is Witchy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyWillCutYou/pseuds/KittyWillCutYou
Summary: Robyne sells old books and plants from her little greenhouse nursery, trinkets, tea, biscuits and coffee. Her home and place of work look a bit cramped, but for the right people it’s much bigger and much deeper.





	

This is the sixth time Robyne’s spied that particular man in her shop.

What’s a young witch to do?

It’s a bit rainy outside and the old hoodie and baseball cap sitting low on his head look a little more than soggy. The first time she’d seen him, she had to admit that she’d been a little bit worried, but the feeling quickly died down to nothing after only a few moments. He didn’t seem to be any more trouble than anyone else.

He was quiet, he didn’t look at anyone, he didn’t speak to anyone and no one spoke to him.

Besides, Greenhouse Books, her shop, her home, it protected itself to a degree from people who might mean harm to it or those inside. Granted the enchantment was slight, but it had always done it’s job, ever since she was a little girl. 

The building is odd and very, very old, nestled between two other buildings on a corner. The Windows are high with bits of stained glass work on the half-moon planes above. Inside is spacious enough for the rows and rows of bookshelves and their books, small tables and their chairs.

A counter with its register.

The ceilings are high and there are iron wrought stairs leading up to narrow walkways along the walls with more books and more small tables and more small chairs. A door off to the right of the counter leads to a little nursery. It’s a little sun-room, a little greenhouse. 

There are hanging plants everywhere.

Please stay out of the nursery unless you have permission and don’t touch the plants unless you own them.

Please don’t drink near the book cases or while reading the books unless you own them.

Please don’t eat while near the book cases or while reading the books unless you own them.

Please don’t dog-ear pages in the books unless you own them.

Read and enjoy.

Robyne sells old books and plants from her little greenhouse nursery, trinkets, tea, biscuits and coffee. Her home and place of work look a bit cramped, but for the right people it’s much bigger and much, much deeper. He may look sketchy, but she realizes he’s likely no trouble at all as long as no one makes trouble for him. 

This is acceptable.

Still, despite her better judgement, she galnces at him from time to time.

She wonders...

He only shows up when there’s barely anyone in the store and takes his seat, away from the shelves, at a corner table, his back to a wall. He’s bigger than the average guy coming in, she can tell, but also small in a way. It’s the way he pulls himself in she notes. No one gives him a second glance. No one gets too close. 

He’s always alone, but then again so are many of her other customers.

Honestly, she’s not even sure why she takes note of him with his ratty layers, worn jeans, and scuffed boots.

He’s just like anyone else if a little less put together, but notice him she does. However, she can almost never get a good look at his face, even though she can see the stubble along his jaw and the somewhat oily hair hanging limply from under his cap, sticking to his skin in damp curls.

So one day she offers him a bit of tea.

It’s only a little chilly outside, but the rain had succeeded in giving the air just a little bit more of a bite and he looks...sodden, miserable even. It’s just a small cup of tea with a cube or two of sugar on the side. He goes terribly still at her approach and when she sets the cup down on a saucer, he makes no move to touch it or anything at all really.

He’s still too close to the books for her liking to be drinking anything, but she makes an exception.

“You look like you could use it.” she says by way of explanation, feeling suddenly bashful, like she’d crossed some kind of line. Excusing herself, she hurries back to the counter and the register, ducking her head and hoping that her wild curls will hide her face from view.

Her cheeks are aflame and she hopes that there is no visible redness despite the fact that her brown skin makes discerning a blush from her round face almost impossible.

There is silence, the faint sound of a chair scraping along the floor and then nothing. Quietly she waits before finally lifting her head to glance towards the man at his table. He’s gone and the cup of tea is where she left it.

Instantly, she feels terrible, but there’s very little she can do about it. With a sigh, she goes about tidying up the counter and the shelves behind her, ringing up and greeting the next customers. In a bit she’ll tend to the plants in her small nursery and check the logs for books and snacks and tea.

The floors will be swept, the tables wiped, and tomorrow she will be open again and the next and the next and the next.

Days go by, weeks, and she sees hide nor hare of the strange man in his baseball cap and hoodie. Robyne is almost positive he’ll never show up again. 

She’s almost positive, right up until he does show up again.

There’s no one in the shop this time and he walks right up to the counter, his hands dug deeply into the pockets of his hoodie. She just manages to keep herself from babbling uselessly at him or gawking like an idiot, but it’s a near thing. He doesn’t order tea, but coffee. 

That’s fine. She has coffee. It’s nothing fancy. It’s just black with cream or sugar or both while the fancier stuff is packaged to sell.

She doesn’t run a Starbucks after all. 

The man doesn’t say anything else after making his order but she can feel his gaze as he watches her silently. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She goes about making his coffee without a word and the machine whirs and makes noise, droning on as the drip starts.

Usually she sells her tea and coffee packaged.

Usually if customers want something to drink while they are in the store, they take a seat and someone brings them their cup. Usually, customers are not allowed to drink near the books or while reading from her shelves, but they can bring their own books and sit at the tables near the windows, away from the shelves.

Usually, usually, usually, but he never asks for anything, never says anything, and this time, like last time, she makes an exception. 

By the time she’s done and turns around he’s not at the counter anymore. She scans the store and finds him at his usual spot, waiting. Her brows furrow, but she makes her way to him, cup and saucer in hand.

She can’t see his eyes, but she knows he’s watching her. He’s sitting back in his seat, hat low and right hand resting on the table. “Enjoy.” she says, after setting his cup down in front of him and turning away. 

He says nothing and Robyne leaves him to his coffee. She wipes the tables, she wipes the counter, she tends the register, she checks the logs. After a time, she glances up to glimpse the man in the baseball cap.

He’s gone.

The cup is empty and a five lays on the table, along with a small slip of paper.

The words _‘Thank you’_ are scrawled along the front in large, neat script.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is intended to be the first in a collection of drabbles for a series that I have named the Greenhouse Books verse.


End file.
